Something Wicked This Way Comes
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: It is 2007, and things aren't all as well as people would like to assume. A new, sinister cult is beginning to take charge of the Wizarding World, and many friends and loved ones are either missing or dead. After taking charge of the group out to stop the newfound evil, can Draco stop this new movement? Warning: Mature Themes Ahead!
1. Taking What is Rightfully Mine

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 **PART ONE  
UPRISING**

* * *

 _Chapter One  
_ _Taking What is Rightfully Mine_

* * *

 _"You shall eat the flesh of your sons, you shall eat the flesh of your daughters, you shall eat the flesh of your brothers and sisters..."_

The harrowing voice, filled with ice, echoed through the dark, murky cavern. Each of the two dozen people gathered in the cave shivered with excitement and anticipation, grinning maniacally behind their masks, as every word sliced into them like cutting wire into a soft cheese.

Ahead of them, sitting on a throne that appeared to crafted entirely from human skulls, a woman resided. Unlike her black-clad comrades, she was swathed in a long, white, cotton dress with short puffy sleeves and a wide ribbon around the waist. It was almost childlike, the way she perched daintily on the horrifying throne—but there was nothing childish and innocent about this dark creature.

Her face was covered with a large mask, obscuring her face entirely; it was made from the skull of a large ram. Huge, curling horns sprouted from the skull, giving her an demonic appearance, and her pale white limbs were covered in dirt and blood. She clutched a jewelled knife in one hand and a large silver goblet in the other.

She held out the knife and the goblet to a female comrade who was kneeling at her feet. The follower was wearing a similar skull mask, but hers only covered her eyes, leaving a sharp jawline exposed. "My Lady Ophite," the woman breathed, bowing her head as she took the knife and the goblet from the Lady.

 _"Take for me what is mine."_

As soon as the words left the Lady's mouth, the girl stood up straight, and turned to face her comrades, holding the knife above her head. After a moment of silence, she used the knife to slit open the neck of her robes, exposing her breasts. Without even a moment's hesitation for what she was about to do, she took the knife to the space between her breasts and began to carve a shape deep into her skin.

She whimpered and moaned in pain as she worked, but she quelled her expressions and focused on the task in hand, completing the grotesque art. When she pulled the knife away, the image of a bloody, upturned pentagram was left on her breastbone.

Blood began to seep slowly down to her stomach, and she quickly held the lip of the goblet to the stream, collecting as much of the thick red liquid as she could. As she did this, the people around her began to tear open their own robes, men and women alike exposing their chests.

The woman walked around the group, carving the dark symbol above the hearts of everyone gathered, collecting as much blood as she could in the jewelled goblet. She then walked back to the Lady, who took the goblet and the knife eagerly, and pushed her mask aside slightly—not enough to uncover her face—just exposing her lips. "I take you into me," she whispered, her voice sounding as sharp as ever. She took the goblet to her face and tipped a substantial amount of the blood into her mouth. When she drew the goblet away, the blood of her comrades stained her lips, and she smiled.

 _"And now you take me into you,"_ she continued, before lifting the knife. She ripped open her own dress, where the scarred skin showed a pentagram that had previously been carved. Instead of reopening the horrifying scars, she plunged it deep into her inner forearm, not making a single exclamation of anguish despite the nature of the wound.

She turned her arm over the goblet so that her blood flowed sluggishly into the cup before removing it, allowing her arm to bleed freely over her white skirts. She handed the goblet out to the woman, who immediately took a long, greedy drink.

As the cult began to eagerly drink from the goblet, the Lady in white leaned back on her throne of bones.

 _"You are ready."_

oOo

Draco sighed deeply as he hurried through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, combing his long fingers through his hair absently. He was late for his meeting with Harry Potter.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stepped into the lift. It had been a last minute decision to withdraw from working at Gringotts and start training as an Auror, so he was a little behind others of his age who'd joined the Auror Team straight from Hogwarts. However, he had completed three full years of relatively mundane missions, and Harry had told him on Friday that he had a new job for him—if he thought he could handle it.

It had taken every ounce of strength within Draco not to punch Harry straight in the face. He hated that Harry, recently promoted to Head Auror, was his superior, and he hated even more that Harry seemed to thrive on the power—though, whether Harry admitted it or not was a different matter.

It wasn't long before he was strolling down the corridor of the department, towards Harry's office right at the end. He rapped his knuckles loudly on the door but entered before Harry could tell him to come in.

Harry was sitting at his desk surrounded by various stacks of paperwork. He was still wearing his travelling cloak, as though he had virtually thrown himself into work the moment he had stepped into the office, and he was trying to take a drink of a strong looking coffee as he scribbled something on a sheaf of parchment.

Unfortunately for Harry, it was a well known fact that men couldn't multitask. He looked up at Draco as soon as the door opened, and missed his mouth completely, causing coffee to slosh down his neck and all over the parchment that he was writing on. "Oh—for—Merlin's—sake—" he hissed, dabbing at the patches of reddening skin on his neck.

This time, Draco allowed himself to roll his eyes. He smartly removed his wand from his pocket and aimed it at Harry and his desk silently. Before their eyes, the spilled coffee leapt from the desk and Harry's robes, leaving everything as dry as it had been just moments before, and poured itself back into the mug.

"Thanks," muttered Harry, rubbing his temples and sitting back in his seat. "This week isn't starting out well for me. "Albus is letting us have no sleep, not to mention Ginny is in her second trimester, now...then James is running riot all the time—"

"—I'm here about the job," Draco drawled, having absolutely no interest in hearing about the Potter family's current dilemmas. It wasn't his problem that Harry and Ginny Potter were wasting no time in producing as many little Potters as possible, and in such a short space of time.

He was utterly happy that Scorpius, who had only recently celebrated his first birthday, was such a complacent child. However, he did have his moments—and it was those moments that caused both Draco and Astoria to formally agree not to procreate any further. The future of the Malfoy bloodline had been procured since they had birthed a son, and that was all that mattered.

"Of course," Harry muttered, and gestured for Draco to sit down. "Okay, so I'll get it out of the way quickly," he continued, searching through his piles of paperwork until he found a brown file, which he kept firmly in his own grip. "I'm sure you've heard of the Witches of Endor?"

"Who hasn't?" Draco replied monotonously. The Witches of Endor were a group of both witches and wizards who had recently come out into the public as some kind of religious movement. From the start, they had seemed harmless enough—preaching in public; trying to lure people into their way of life; making their beliefs and scriptures known. These kind of movements weren't unusual in either the Muggle or Wizarding Worlds, and after a few months of being ignored, they usually fell out of society—which is what everyone expected the Witches of Endor to do.

Instead, they took a sudden dark turn. People of all ages began to go missing, and bodies showed up just days later. Sometimes no evidence of murder would be visible, but other times were a lot worse—heads and limbs would be decapitated, their bodies riddled with the use of dark magic, and worryingly—symbols such as the pentagram would be carved upon their skin. It was after things started to head in this direction that the Ministry decided to take action.

"Well, I'm dispatching you out of the Auror Team. I want you to lead a smaller team of about four or five Aurors who are going to get to the core of this...cult...and take them apart. I want this wiping out before it goes any further...the things they're doing are worse than..." Harry's eyes flickered to Draco's left arm as he spoke, and Draco felt his throat constrict.

"Worse than the Death Eaters, I know."

"We can't have another uprising like Voldemort, Malfoy."

Draco swallowed, but didn't comment on Harry's use of the Dark Lord's name. Even though it was so long since he had been killed, it still gave Draco and many other witches and wizards a slight twinge of fear at hearing the name.

"Who are these other Aurors, then?" he replied.

"I'm naming your group the Patronage," Harry continued. "Because you are aiding the future of the Wizarding World by protecting us from this cult. You'll meet your new comrades soon, but first of all, I just want to go through some of the missing persons reports with you."

Draco nodded and watched as Harry opened the file and pushed it towards him. "You may notice some familiar faces," he said slowly. "So please don't be alarmed. The witches and wizards in this file are people who are missing, but haven't been confirmed dead as of yet."

Draco flipped slowly through the pages in the file, trying to put together some similarities between the missing persons. However, he soon realised that there were no patterns that could be formed—all of the missing people seemed to be chosen completely at random.

They were aged from younger than two to as old as one hundred, of all races and blood types, some even Muggles. Draco's heart lurched as his eyes fell on those of Pansy Parkinson—the picture that Harry had used on her report was one she had taken not long after her graduation from Hogwarts.

"I only spoke to her about three weeks ago," Draco muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. "She came over with her fiancée to visit Scorpius."

Harry said nothing, allowing Draco to continue to flip through the pages. A child, aged about eighteen months, was on the second page, a boy with a shock of blonde hair and pale eyes—the boy looked so much like his own son that Draco had to double take.

He noticed Harry bite his lip as he turned to the next page. A familiar pair of wide, silvery eyes gazed up at him beguilingly. Her face was framed with her long, straggly blonde hair, and she was wearing a crown of flowers upon her head as well as a matching flower wreath around her neck.

"Luna Lovegood?" Draco commented, raising his eyebrows at Harry. "I didn't even know. Wasn't she running the Quibbler?"

"We think that's why she might have been taken," Harry replied, his voice thick with worry. "She had published an article about the Witches of Endor just a week after her father's funeral, and it's safe to say that the things she wrote weren't exactly pro-cultist."

"When did she go missing?"

"Three weeks ago. She was taking a trip abroad with her boyfriend, Rolf Scamander. He's a magizoologist, and they were searching for that fucking Crumple Horned Snorckack," Harry dropped his head into his hands, apparently frustrated. "I just can't believe she would be so ridiculous...I mean, it is Luna, but I thought she would have more sense. Especially after what happened to her when her father wrote articles against Voldemort back during the war."

Draco remembered all too well what had happened to Luna. She had ended up trapped in his basement for several weeks, subject to starvation and dehydration and continuous taunting from his late Aunt Bellatrix. Harry seemed to have forgotten that one of the perpetrators of that event was standing in front of him, due to his immense worry of Luna.

"I'm sorry. I know this is unprofessional," Harry finally spoke, and Draco noticed that his glasses had steamed up considerably.

"You're worried about your friend. It's natural," Draco replied slowly, a little unsure how to react. This was his old arch enemy, and now it was as though he was expected to comfort him.

Harry seemed to be experiencing the same awkwardness, as he quickly composed himself. "Well. You should take that file to the other members of Patronage. Hermione has emptied an office for you in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so if you head over there she'll let you know which office they're in."

Draco nodded, and hurriedly left the office, trying not to bask too much in the discomfort that followed this awkward meeting with Harry.

It was time to meet his new teammates.

* * *

 ** _Coming Up Next:_**

 _"What are you doing, Ginny?" he asked quietly, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. The dramatic scene of Ginny packing her bags angrily wasn't a first, either, but he knew better than to challenge his emotional wife, particularly when she was raging with pregnancy hormones._

 _"Are you thick? I'm going home! I'm going to take James and Albus and go to the Burrow—then you can have the whole house to yourself for your stupid little naps—" but Ginny didn't make it to the end of her sentence._

 _A sudden, ear-splitting scream had ripped through Godric's Hollow, silencing everyone in earshot. Immediately, Harry and Ginny lunged for the door, various items of clothing dropping to the floor as Ginny stopped her summoning charm._

* * *

 **A.N:** I hope you liked this first chapter! It's definitely something new that I haven't really attempted before, so any thoughts that you might have will certainly be welcomed with open arms in the review box!

Many thanks to Sable Supernova & The Halfblood Raven for excellent Beta-ing!

If you want to ask any questions, don't hesitate to pop into my ask box on my tumblr (screaming-fae)


	2. The Storm That Brews

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 _Chapter Two  
_ _The Storm that Brews_

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"But I already am old enough!"

Andromeda Tonks rolled her eyes, though she was smiling softly. Her grandson, Teddy, had been complaining about not being able to start Hogwarts in September.

"I turned nine just last month," he added in a whine, tugging on his grandmother's sleeve.

"You can't go to Hogwarts until you're _eleven,_ Teddy," she reminded him. He was sitting on the floor at her feet, gazing up at her with his wide, hopeful blue eyes. His hair, which he was wearing in his favourite shade of turquoise, was short and spiky from Andromeda ruffling her hands through it.

"But I want to go _now_ ," he mumbled, frowning.

"Why the rush, Teddy?"

Teddy bit his lip and pouted. "No one will show me any magic," he grumbled. "I want to learn how to do magic properly!"

Andromeda couldn't help herself from laughing, but she stopped quickly when she saw Teddy's bottom lip wobble. "I've told you Teddy—you aren't _allowed_ to do magic until you're at Hogwarts."

"But I do magic all the time!" Teddy replied excitedly. "Watch!" he screwed up his eyes and concentrated, and Andromeda observed as Teddy's hair began to grow until it was pin-straight and a steely grey colour, his face wrinkled and sagged, and his blue eyes faded until they were dark. His face was a little replica of Andromeda's.

"That's not the same thing, honey," Andromeda laughed, as Teddy shook his head and morphed his face back to normal. "That's your natural, genetic ability."

"A Metamorphagus," Teddy answered, puffing his chest out proudly. "Just like Mum."

"That's right, Teddy," Andromeda smiled. "Just like Mum."

oOo

Harry rubbed his eyes as he pushed the door open to his family home in Godric's Hollow, and blinked wearily over at the clock in the hallway. It was half past eight in the evening, meaning that he was very late getting home—once again.

From the moment he entered the house, he was hit with familiar, stressful sounds. First came the worst of all—the high-pitched wails of his youngest son, Albus Severus. Second was the irate chatter of four-year old James Sirius, who was begging his mother for a bedtime story. Finally, there was the distressed, tired voice of his wife, Ginny, who was clearly trying to get their children into bed.

Harry sighed at the noise, silently praying that his two boys would fall asleep quickly, and he slipped into the living room. After sinking down into the couch in front of the fireplace, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the crying, and let himself succumb to sleep for a short while.

"Thanks for that," an irate voice broke his slumber, after what seemed like mere minutes. Harry cracked his eyes open and blinked over at the clock, which now read ten-thirty. Ginny was standing in front of him, wearing pyjamas which consisted of a strappy blue vest top and flowery trousers. Her hands were placed on her hips, emphasising the swell in her stomach which grew and grew with each passing day. "It was great of you to help out when you got in, instead of sneaking in here for a nap," she added sarcastically.

Harry groaned inwardly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. These arguments with Ginny were becoming a much more frequent occurrence as their family grew bigger. He often found himself dreaming of the way they used to be, before children and work invaded their life. Of course, Harry loved his sons and his unborn child, but he couldn't deny that they had become a strain on their relationship. "Not tonight Ginny, please," he muttered. "I've had a dreadful day at work."

" _You've_ had a dreadful day?" Ginny snapped, and Harry couldn't suppress the groan this time. "I was awake _three hours_ before you this morning, Harry—because Albus woke up ridiculously early. Not to mention I had been up twice in the night—once with James having a nightmare, and the second time I was giving Albus a feed. You know, like I do _every night_ , because you never wake up to help!"

"I have to work all day, Ginny! To support our family!"

"I had to go back to work three months after James was born _and_ look after him! Right up until I was eight months pregnant with Albus! Did you do anything? No! You sat at work in your little office until he was tucked up in bed for the night!" Ginny was seething; her fists clenched and her cheeks as red as her hair.

Harry would probably have reacted a little more explosively, if it wasn't for the fact that he had endured the same argument with Ginny several times since Albus was born. "Ginny, we've been through this a _thousand_ times," he muttered, but it went unheard.

"Nothing ever changes with you, Harry Potter! Who do you think you are? Do you think that because you are the _Chosen One_ , you get to neglect your family while you sit around on your arse at the Ministry?"

Ginny was off on one now, and Harry knew that there was no way that he would be able to get a word in edgeways. He could only sit and bear the brunt of her rage until she grew tired, and hope that she had taken the necessary precautions of placing a silencing charm on the boys' bedroom door.

"If it isn't bad enough that I didn't get to get a say in naming the two sons that I'm constantly running around after and cleaning up after, but I have to live in this stupid little town!" she roared, flailing her hands around madly.

"What's wrong with their names?" Harry asked coolly. "What's wrong with Godric's Hollow?"

" _What's wrong with their names?_ James Sirius is lovely, Harry. But maybe I would've liked to have some choice there—at least a middle name. I don't even need to _discuss_ names with you, to know that you will want our baby to be called Lily if she's a girl. And Albus; _very_ admirable of you. But Severus? Poor Albus is going to be relentlessly teased when he goes to Hogwarts, and you know it!" Ginny hissed, beginning to stalk around the living room. With her swollen stomach and slight waddle, Harry would have found her stature funny if they were in any other situation. "And as for Godric's Hollow—did we really have to move into the house that your parents were _killed_ in? Do you think I enjoy putting my children to sleep in the room that your mother was murdered in? Do you think I like walking up those stairs every day and picturing your father sprawled out on them? This is a ghost town with hardly anyone in it, Harry—I have no friends, my family are miles south."

Harry held up his hands suddenly, shaking his head. "Ginny, you don't know what you're saying," he insisted. "Why don't you visit your parents more often? You know she would be more than happy to help you with the kids."

A snarl spread across Ginny's features, and Harry winced. "Yes, perfect. I suppose you haven't seen the sheer amount of grandchildren that Mum and Dad have now, do you?" she pulled out her wand, and for a brief moment, Harry suspected that she was going to land a Bat-Bogey Hex on him. However, he watched as she swished her wand around the room silently, and various items soared down the stairs and from shelves, and began packing themselves neatly in a suitcase that Harry hadn't realized was around.

"What are you doing, Ginny?" he asked quietly, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. The dramatic scene of Ginny packing her bags angrily wasn't a first, either, but he knew better than to challenge his emotional wife, particularly when she was raging with pregnancy hormones.

"Are you an actual idiot? I'm going home! I'm going to take James and Albus and go to the Burrow—then you can have the whole house to yourself for your stupid little naps—" but Ginny didn't make it to the end of her sentence.

A sudden, ear-splitting scream had ripped through Godric's Hollow, silencing everyone in earshot. Immediately, Harry and Ginny lunged for the door, various items of clothing dropping to the floor as Ginny stopped her summoning charm.

Harry and Ginny weren't the only ones who had left their homes to see what the commotion was about. Godric's Hollow was a very small village, and not a lot went amiss. The old man across the road had hobbled out onto the street, along with a young couple and a few other neighbours. Along with Harry and Ginny, they hurried over to the source of the sound.

They didn't need to travel very far. The woman who owned Harry's neighbouring house was sprawled out in the middle of the road, screaming and sobbing hysterically into the cobbled stone.

Ginny was the quickest to reach her, reacting swiftly despite her pregnant frame. She knelt down beside the young woman, stroking her back soothingly, urging her to explain what the problem was.

As Harry ambled closer, he placed the woman's name. Her name was Amber, and she was a young, Halfblood witch, with wispy brown hair and a pale face. Amber was the newest resident to Godric's Hollow, and she had arrived with her three year old daughter Gracie, whom Amber had been pregnant with during her last year at Hogwarts. Amber wasn't a very bright witch, but she had always smiled politely at Harry and Ginny whenever they crossed in the street.

"She's...gone..." gasped Amber, choking down gulps of air as she struggled to get her words out. She threw her head back and howled, tears and snot streaming unattractively from her face. "I came into the living room...she was in bed...but...oh, _Merlin_!"

"Harry," Ginny murmured over Amber's loud wails. "You need to See what happened."

By the way that Ginny emphasised 'see', Harry knew immediately what she meant, and he bit his lip nervously.

Legilimency hadn't always been a great skill of his, and Harry knew it was mostly due to the negative experiences he had suffered during his fifth year of Hogwarts. With Voldemort constantly delving into his mind, he had been forced to endure lessons in Legilimency with Professor Snape, and they hadn't exactly gone smoothly.

But upon becoming the Head Auror, Harry knew he needed to refine his Legilimency, and he had taken private lessons for six months. Even though he disliked using the invasive magic, it was called for occasionally.

He pulled out his wand, albeit reluctantly, and aimed it at Amber's forehead. _"Legilimens,"_ he murmured, and his vision suddenly went dark.

Luckily, Harry didn't have to sift through various memories in order to discover what had happened. Amber was so extremely distressed that she was only thinking of one thing.

He watched, trying to pace the memory so that he could analyse what happened. He was suddenly seeing through Amber's eyes; observing as she stirred a spoon around a teacup of greenish liquid, before glancing over at a clock on the wall. Afterwards, she closed the door to the kitchen, and headed into the living room.

Something was unusual—even though Harry had never visited Amber's home (except when it belonged to the late Bathilda Bagshot), he could sense her suspicious emotions in the memory. She hadn't closed the door to the living room previously, he soon realised, but for some reason, it was now shut tight.

She burst into the living room, but it was too late. The sounds of a child's muffled crying echoed, and she whirled her head towards the fireplace. Harry tried not to lurch out of Amber's head, as he choked down his shock.

A Witch of Endor, dressed in floor-sweeping, hooded black robes and a large, ominous skull for a mask, was standing in the fireplace. Her mouth was visible below the skull, and Harry cringed as she grinned widely. She was holding Amber's little girl tightly around the arms to prevent her from struggling. A wad of fabric had been stuffed into Gracie's mouth, in a feeble attempt to silence her.

Amber threw herself towards the fireplace frantically, but the Witch of Endor had already used her free hand to dispense a handful of Floo Powder to the ground of the fireplace. Harry tried to listen to the address that the woman snapped, but it was unintelligible, most likely due to Amber's immediate distress.

Before he could witness the horrific scene once again, Harry allowed himself to step out of her mind. As familiar surroundings lurched back into reality, he took a step back to steady himself, taking a deep breath. Before doing anything else, he fished around in the pocket of his robes, thanking himself for not changing as soon as he arrived home from work, and retrieved a small, empty vial.

He then pressed the tip of his wand to a random point on his head, and slowly extracted the memory he had just experienced, in the way that he had seen Albus Dumbledore do so many times before. He knew that the relevant parties at the Ministry would want to see this memory first hand, if it meant that they could get any closer to ridding the world of this plague.

A few of the men were heading slowly towards Amber's house, with their wands outstretched. However, before they could do anything, Harry held up his hand. "No, don't go in there," he ordered. "Don't touch anything, don't even go in there. I'm going to get a special unit in there immediately to check out the situation. If you go in there and disturb the place, it could make for a more difficult reading."

"But..." a middle-aged man in navy blue robes was pressing his lips together. "The kidnapper could still be in there."

"There's no one in there," Harry insisted. "I saw the memory. The kidnapper vanished into the Floo Network."

"Well, where did they go?" Amber wailed suddenly, and Ginny tried to hush her comfortingly. "Couldn't you hear what she said? Where did she _go?_ "

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I could only hear what you heard at the time."

"I couldn't hear," Amber whispered, tears trickling slowly down her cheeks. "I'm completely useless."

"Look, Amber," Ginny interjected, before Harry could continue. "Why don't you come and stay with us tonight, then you can contact your parents or somebody. Okay?"

Amber was nodding slowly, as Ginny did her best to heave her to her feet, and carefully lead her over to the Potter's house.

Once they were inside and the door was closed, Harry turned to the rest of the neighbours.

"You should all get home," he ordered, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. "Strengthen any protective enchantments you have around your home. Block your fireplaces if you aren't expecting any visitors. Stay inside until daylight." He waited until everyone around him nodded in agreement, began to filter away into their houses, and then walked over to his own house.

Once he was standing on the doorstep, he raised his wand and silently began to strengthen his own protective enchantments. He could see various, silvery domes of magic appearing around the houses across the street, and he inwardly thanked his neighbours for taking his advice.

He closed the door quietly behind him upon entering, not wanting to disturb Ginny and Amber, who he could hear talking softly in the living room. He stood awkwardly in the corridor before bursting in unceremoniously, listening to what they were saying.

"I just don't know what the Witches of Endor would want with Gracie," Amber whimpered. "I haven't done _anything_ to upset them. I've never shown any obvious disagreement with their practices, or joined in with the marches against them. I've always kept my head down and got on with life. I don't want any trouble."

Harry couldn't help but thinking that Amber was extremely cowardly, but he held his tongue. Some people just didn't want to burst into the heart of trouble like he had a habit of doing. Amber had done what she thought was the best for her and her child, as a single parent.

"Well, is there anything special about her?" Ginny asked, and Harry could see that she was trying to think desperately why the cult would want to kidnap a young girl. "Is she a Pureblood?"

Harry looked at his feet. He knew from his files at the Ministry that the Witches of Endor didn't seem to be going for any particular type of witch or wizard, and a pattern was yet to be established.

"No," Amber murmured. "I'm Halfblood, as is her father. She's just a normal little girl. Until last week, she hadn't even shown any sign of magic."

At this point, Harry slowly walked into the living room, and sat down in the armchair, meeting Ginny's eyes. He was glad to note that none of the rage was present in her face anymore—just a sense of obvious worry, which she was trying to keep masked in Amber's presence. As soon as Amber had screamed out on the street, their argument had evaporated—for now.

"What did she do?" Harry interjected. "I mean, what was her accidental magic?" he added for clarity.

Amber shrugged, slightly half-heartedly. "She was having a tantrum because I wouldn't buy her some chocolate from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago. She cried and cried and cried all the way home, and when we got back I found five bars of chocolate in my handbag."

Harry shook his head absently. "That might not have even been accidental magic. She could've snatched them while you weren't looking."

"I don't know then," Amber dissolved into a fresh bout of tears, and Ginny shot Harry a wordless, dark look.

"I'm sorry, Amber," Harry apologised quickly. "This cult are the source of a lot of problems at the Ministry, so I don't mean to be so..."

"It's okay," Amber dismissed quickly. "You're just trying to do your job."

"I need to ask you," Harry ignored the second pointed glare that Ginny gave him. "Did you not have any protective enchantments around your home?"

"Of course," Amber replied. "The only way to enter my home is through the Floo Network. But since Gracie was born, only a few people—close friends, family—know where I live now."

Ginny's gaze softened, and Harry licked his lips slowly. Amber glanced between them, her lip wobbling. "What? What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Amber," Ginny whispered.

" _What?_ "

"Someone you know," Harry continued. "Someone you know must be a Witch of Endor."

oOo

Much, much further north, in a small hut in the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat two people in oversized armchairs. The man was enormous; with thick dark hair and a beard, streaked with more grey than ever as he aged. Beside him was an elderly woman, her silver hair scraped tightly into a bun, with a tartan nightcap over it, fastened neatly beneath her neck. She was dressed in a matching dressing gown and a long nightdress. Both the man and the woman were clutching gigantic, wide mugs of tea.

"There's a storm comin', Minerva," the half-giant murmured gruffly.

"Don't I know it, Hagrid," she replied stiffly.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, gazing out of the window and into the night. The air over the Forbidden Forest was thick with heavy black rain clouds, and various sounds of distress could be heard from the depths of the forest.

"The centaurs have been riled for months," Hagrid continued. "I tried to speak wi' Firenze, but he's closer to the tribe than ever. Watchin' the skies every nigh', lookin' for answers. They don' trust the humans."

"They have no reason to," Minerva said smartly. "After all, humankind has seen some of the worst types of criminals. As time moves on, more dark wizards arise. Why should we have any forgiveness from the creatures around us?"

"But they know what's happenin', Minerva. They've _seen_ it."

Minerva rolled her eyes and flapped her hand dismissively. "They don't know anything. Stargazing never solved any problems."

Once again, a brief silence fell across the pair as they sipped their tea slowly.

"What will happen' this time?" Hagrid asked, clutching his mug between his thick, sausage-like fingers. "Wi' Dumbledore gone, I don' think we'll survive it."

"Ever the optimist, Hagrid," Minerva said crisply. "Lord Voldemort was—oh, don't wince, he's been dead for years—he was killed at the hands of students. We will find a way through this situation, as we always do."

"These Witches o' Endor are darker than You-Know-Who, an' you know it," Hagrid muttered. He heaved himself out of his armchair and placed his hands on the windowsill as he gazed out into the evening. "Oh yes, there's definitely a storm comin'. I only hope you're right, Minerva, an' we can make it through this one too."

* * *

 _ **Coming Up:**_

 _Sean Finnigan leaned over the boat, staring into the murky waters of the Irish Sea. He could see slim, lithe shapes swimming circles deep below, as the strange music rose above the waves. Sean considered covering his ears_ — _he had never paid much attention in Care of Magical Creatures, but he had heard stories of sailors being lured to their deaths by the sweet music of the merfolk._

 _However, there was something different about the song that they sang. The notes were deep and rumbling, and when Sean closed his eyes, all he could feel was anger, bitter, venomous anger. He couldn't understand the words that they sang, but he didn't need a translator to know that the Mer were furious with something._

* * *

 **A.N:** Reviews are appreciated, pretty please!


	3. Singing for your Secrets

x

 _Chapter Three  
_ _Singing for your Secrets_

* * *

A few miles off the coast of Ireland, the air was misty and thick with fog above the sea. Two men sat inside a small fishing boat, though their poles were thrown aside and unused. Instead, they were listening to a chorus of eerie, rippling notes that seemed to be coming from deep beneath the waves.

"What is that?" the fisherman, a Muggle, asked his son, straining his ears to listen to the unusual music that filled them.

Seamus Finnigan leaned over the boat, staring into the murky waters of the Irish Sea. He could see slim, lithe shapes swimming circles deep below, as the strange music rose above the waves. Seamus considered covering his ears—he had never paid much attention in Care of Magical Creatures, but he had heard stories of sailors being lured to their deaths by the sweet music of the merfolk.

However, there was something different about the song that they sang. The notes were deep and rumbling, and when Seamus closed his eyes, all he could feel was anger—bitter, venomous anger. He couldn't understand the words that they sang, but he didn't need a translator to know that the Mer were furious with something.

"Hey!" Seamus shouted, feeling their anger blossoming through him, right to his fingertips. He clutched the edge of the boat and shouted into the sea, daring one of the merpeople to come up and face him. "Come up here! What's wrong with you?" He didn't speak Mermish, but he hoped that one of them would have the nerve to swim to the surface and explain themselves.

His wishes were granted, as the dull harmony rose and rose, until it vibrated the underside of the boat. Seamus's father shuddered and backed up towards the cabin, his face sickly and white. Seamus nodded at his father, silently ordering him to hide inside the cabin where he would be safe.

The head of a sallow-faced, haggard merman broke the glassy surface of the water. His eyes were wide and bulbous, and his hair hung in long, greasy green tendrils around the gills on his neck. Seamus could see the merman's tail swishing violently in the murky depths.

"If you try and attack us again," the merman hissed, his voice sharp and gravelly in the cold air. "We will kill all of you."

Seamus's eyes grew wide. "What?" he gasped. "I don't understand—we've never done anything to you."

"All of you," snapped the merman. "Filthy humans." Before Seamus could respond, the merman had turned his back on Seamus and vanished beneath the waves with a swish of his long tail.

Seamus blinked at the space where the merman had just been, listening as the angry song dwindled lower and lower, until the resentful notes dissolved into the wind.

oOo

Draco was pushing the knot of his tie up smartly, when Astoria appeared behind him. He spotted her sharp features in the reflection of the mirror he was standing in front of. "Good morning," he greeted politely, the way he usually did when he crossed Astoria in the morning. "Is the Nanny already here?"

Astoria nodded, folding her arm over her smart dress suit. Draco had always admired Astoria and her precise, immaculate appearance. He had never seen her look anything but impeccable; she woke up in the morning with her soft brown hair floating around her shoulders, her skin was olive-coloured and flaw-free, and she always dressed in neat pencil skirts and figure-hugging shirts, in beige, black and grey.

She looked just as astute as usual, though her expression was stiff. "I would like to speak with you in the kitchen," she stated in her silky voice. "As soon as possible, please." Before Draco could reply, Astoria had whipped around the corner, leaving nothing but the smell of her rosy perfume in the air.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his reflection. He was already running slightly late for work, and sitting down for a chat with Astoria before heading off wasn't on his list of priorities. However, he and his wife had long since decided that complying with each others wishes was the best way of keeping the peace in their relationship. So, he fastened the top button of his shirt tightly, and headed down to the kitchen.

Astoria was sitting in the table furthest away from him, sipping coffee delicately from a ceramic mug. A sheaf of documents was in front of her, and when Draco sat down, she pushed them towards him.

"Draco, this hasn't been an easy decision," she started in her honeyed voice. "But I'm sure you will agree...our marriage is loveless and we only married to keep our parents happy. I've decided to file for divorce—I hope that you will make this process easy for us both."

Draco blinked at Astoria. She was staring at him unblinkingly with her cool eyes, and a small smile played on her full lips. Draco could hardly believe that they were discussing divorce—she was speaking as though they were simply exchanging views on a business transaction.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Astoria sighed, and turned the pages of the documents to the last, pointing to a dotted line. "Just sign here, and the process is complete. We can move on with our lives."

"Astoria—there are things we need to discuss!"

"Well, I've already thought about it. I'll go back to Mother's for now with Scorpius, and you will stay here with your parents in the Manor, naturally. Scorpius will stay with me for four days of the week, and spend the remaining three with you."

Draco stood up so fast that the chair clattered to the floor deafeningly. "I see you've put a lot of thought into this," he snapped, clenching his fists. "I have to go to work. We will talk about this when I get home." Without giving Astoria the opportunity to reciprocate, he turned on his heel and marched out of the door.

He arrived at the Ministry minutes later after apparating, feeling furious. How could Astoria throw this bombshell at him during one of the much more stressful episodes of his career? He knew deep down that it was his own fault—Draco had spent far too much time boasting about his perfect wife whenever his colleagues complained about their nagging spouses.

It was true that he and Astoria did have a loveless marriage—but Draco did love Scorpius. He adored his son beyond words, and he wanted nothing more than to give him a perfect childhood, something that he himself never had. There was no way that he would be able to do that in a broken household.

In a way, it was to be expected that Astoria would divorce him, and true to style in her neat and organised manner. Draco just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

When he reached his office, he threw his jacket onto the back of the chair and sat down. A dozen more documents and files had appeared on his desk overnight, and Draco rubbed his temples, trying to push away the headache that was surely going to drop by before long.

"Draco?" a voice tittered from the door. Draco groaned and looked up, and automatically rolled his eyes. Hermione Granger stood at the door, her bushy hair tied up on top of her head and a coffee stain down the front of her maroon sweater. "I just need to run something by you—I've just got out of a meeting with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"You've just got out of a meeting?" Draco glanced over to the clock on the wall, which read eight-forty. "It's not even nine yet."

"It was an early one," Hermione replied with a grin, but her smile didn't quite meet her eyes. Many of Harry Potter's friends still found it difficult to be sociable with Draco, but Hermione tried more than most. "Can I come in?"

Draco gestured towards the chair at the other side of his desk, and Hermione scurried in, perching on the edge of the chair. She pushed the sheet of paper she was holding towards Draco, and he pursed his lips, waiting for the inevitable bad news.

"It's about the Merpeople—" Hermione started, but Draco didn't let her finish.

"Merpeople? Granger, I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this," he snapped. "I'm up to my eyeballs with cases on the Witches of Endor, I don't have time to deal with _fish_ —"

"If you'll let me finish," interrupted Hermione, raising an eyebrow at his short temper. "This might just be relevant to the Witches of Endor."

Draco relaxed back in his chair. "Go on. And be quick."

Hermione took a breath. "Reports have been flying in from all over the coasts of England and Ireland regarding the tribes of Mer around the country. Innocent people are being targeted and threatened by the Merpeople. The department sent a group of wizards fluent in Mermish around the country to speak to a few of the more sociable tribes, and we still didn't get much information. It seems that groups of hooded wizards have been trying to gain access to their tribes, and three merpeople have been discovered dead at the hand of witchcraft. They have insisted on their removal from our law, and if we don't comply, they are going to wage war."

"How can a bunch of _fish_ wage war," sneered Draco. Hermione shot him a rude glare, and Draco knew he had overstepped the mark. From what he could remember, Hermione had always been a fierce activist for non-humans. "So, you're suggesting that the hooded wizards are Witches of Endor?" he continued.

"Who else could it be?" Hermione replied. "No one has ever bothered the Mer before now, at least not in the last century or so."

"What do you want me to do about this?"

"I think it just needs to be considered, that's all. If the Witches are after the Mer, it could mean they're going after other human-like creatures, or humans with unique talents. I had a look through the missing person's file, and some people that aren't presumed dead have been proved to be quite different."

"How so?" Draco perked up a little, narrowing his eyes. He had flicked through the missing persons file about a hundred times and noticed no correlation. How could Hermione Granger have glanced at the file once, and suddenly spotted a pattern?

"Two of the missing people are registered Seers," Hermione said. "One is a Parseltongue. No others had specific abilities, but I did a bit of research, and it turns out that a few were suspected to be Metamorphmagi. As well as this, House Elves have been going missing around the country."

"There's been no record of missing House Elves," Draco reached for his quill, scribbling a note on a spare bit of parchment. Hermione's lips thinned.

"Well, there wouldn't be," she muttered. "No one really takes much notice of them, do they? But the Witches of Endor have clearly taken an interest in their own brand of magic."

"Okay," Draco grumbled, not really wanting to be dragged into one of Hermione's rants regarding the care and protection of magical creatures. "Well, I'll try to keep on top of the Mer problem...and the House Elf problem."

"One more thing," Hermione continued as she stood up from the chair. "I saw Harry first thing this morning. There's been an incident at Godric's Hollow, and he wants you to get down there with some assistance as soon as possible."

oOo

"...I already know what kind of magic I'll be the best at when I go to Hogwarts, Uncle Harry. I would have practised with Mum's wand, but Nanna won't let me," Teddy's voice dropped so that Andromeda, who was brewing tea in the kitchen, wouldn't overhear. "She's hidden it again, and thinks I don't know where it is, but I do," he muttered, with an exaggerated wink.

Harry smiled at his Godson. He was sitting on the couch beside Teddy, who was chattering away excitedly. He felt bad—it wasn't often he managed to get to see Teddy, what with family life being so overwhelming, and his recent promotion didn't offer much free time.

"Surely Nanna Andy has told you why you can't use magic yet, Teddy," Harry said carefully. He wanted to make sure Teddy knew why he couldn't go around pinching wands to practice with, but he also wanted to retain his reputation as 'cool Uncle Harry'. "You'll be going to Hogwarts in a couple of years."

Teddy's eyebrows furrowed together and his turquoise hair darkened to a teal shade. "Yes, Uncle Harry," he grumbled, but Harry could see he was fighting not to grin.

"Tea's ready," Andromeda chimed, suddenly appearing in the living room and laying a tea tray down on the coffee table. She added sugar and milk to a teacup and handed it to Harry, who took a sip and nodded politely. He watched as Andromeda sighed as she slumped back in her armchair, her wrinkled features looking a lot more prominent than they had done the last time he saw her.

"Andromeda, if you're struggling..." he started, but he didn't get a chance to finish the question. Andromeda had shot him a dark look that was eerily reminiscent of her late older sister—someone who Harry did his best to forget.

He had offered on more than one occasion to take Teddy in, and even Andromeda. Their house at Godric's Hollow was more than big enough for all of them, and he knew that Ginny wouldn't mind having Andromeda and Teddy around the house. She was getting on now, and Harry knew that parenting a hyperactive nine-year-old while she was nearing seventy had to be taking it's toll on her.

She didn't have to reply to Harry for him to know what she was thinking. She told him so everytime they met. There was no way that Andromeda wanted to leave her family home - the home where she had lived with her husband and brought up their daughter, Teddy's mother. She didn't want to leave those memories behind. And Andromeda wouldn't see Harry bringing up Teddy when he had his own children to contend with.

She never admitted it, but Harry privately thought Andromeda would probably be lonely without Teddy, too.

They finished their tea in silence while Teddy played on the carpet with a pack of cards, and when Harry had placed his empty cup back on the table, he brought up the subject he had really come here for.

"Intelligence at the Ministry is suggesting that the Witches of Endor could be looking for humanoid creatures and unique talents within wizards," Harry started carefully. Andromeda cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't think you'll find any half-breed creatures, here Harry," she replied. Harry winced inwardly at the way she said the word 'half-breed'—it was easy to forget that Andromeda had been brought up on the hateful mannerisms of the House of Black.

"That's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean?" she was eyeing Teddy meaningfully as she spoke, her gaze lingering on his shrewd green hair.

Harry sighed. "Look, I care about you and Teddy. I just wanted to suggest that you amp up your protective enchantments...just in case. Hermione spent all weekend going through the missing persons reports, and one of them was a suspected Metamorphmagus."

Andromeda's eyes widened a little at this, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little glad that she was finally taking him seriously. He nodded at her gravely, and then knelt on the floor to say goodbye to Teddy.

oOo

Draco had never visited Godric's Hollow before, but as he stood in front of the small church with two other Patronage members, he didn't think it was anything special.

"I thought it would be bigger than this," grunted Nicholas Conley in his gravelly voice. He was standing to the left of Draco, and was glaring around the small village with his narrow, ebony eyes.

Nicholas Conley was the last person that Draco ever imagined he would be working with. He was half human, half vampire, and stood at an astonishing seven feet tall, towering above most Ministry employees. His skin was a haggard, grey-white colour, and his hair was thin and dark brown, hanging to his shoulders. Unlike Draco, who settled for dressing smartly in blazers and sharp-creased trousers for work, Nicholas, who was aged well over three-hundred, preferred to wear the standard wizarding attire of dark robes that swept the floor when he walked, tied at the waist with a thin rope. He looked extremely out of place in Godric's Hollow, as even the wizarding folk around them were dressed in Muggle attire, but he was far too intimidating for anyone to confront him on his unusual appearance.

"Well, duh," tittered the petite female on Draco's other side. "It's a hollow." She smirked at Nicholas, to show that her antagonising tone of voice was purely humorous.

Her name was Naomi Watkins, and she couldn't have been much older than eighteen, as she looked and acted as though she had just graduated from Hogwarts. She was small and slim, with dark olive skin and features that suggested she was of Asian heritage. Her long hair was the colour of charcoal and she wore it tied back in a thick braid which hung down the middle of her back neatly. Despite a lack of effort with her hair, she seemed to pay much more attention to her make-up, as she wore heavy Kohl eyeliner to frame her narrow hazel eyes, and her eyebrows were sharply outlined. Unlike Draco's smart work attire and Nicholas's traditional robes, Naomi opted for clothing that was more appropriate for the kind of work she expected to be doing.

When Draco first laid eyes on her, he thought she was in fancy dress. He didn't know whether she was Chinese, Japanese, Korean or otherwise, but she looked as though she had jumped straight out of one of those cartoon ninja films that Muggle's were so fond of. She wore tight fitting leather trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that was just as clingy, and knee-high, flat heeled boots. He had quickly learned that she had a snappy, short temper and quite an attitude problem, so Draco had decided not to comment on her unusual dress sense, and had privately decided she must be Muggleborn - how else would she have learned such an inappropriate way of dressing?

He had quickly gotten to know his new teammates, and decided that he definitely liked Nicholas better. The half-vampire was quiet, moody, and kept to himself most of the time, but when he talked, every word that came out of his mouth was meaningful. Unlike Naomi, who gossiped and chattered until Draco felt sure that his ears were going to fall off. She was sarcastic and snippy, but Draco had soon learned that she did respect at least one member of Patronage.

Nicholas shot her a dark glare. "This isn't the time for mucking around, Naomi," he hissed venomously, and Draco resisted the urge to grin gleefully as Naomi's face fell. "A child has been kidnapped."

"Let's get over there," Draco muttered, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he led the way over to the house which had been cordoned off by the Ministry.

The good thing about being the leader of the Patronage was that Draco didn't really have much work to do. He was basically the supervisor, overseeing Nicholas and Naomi as they hurried around the small, two-bedroomed house in Godric's Hollow, just next door to where Draco knew the Potters lived. Nicholas made notes in a thick, leather bound journal, and occasionally muttered something to Draco, and Naomi crawled around with her face close to the floor, apparently looking for clues. He was quite surprised when she reached into her rucksack and pulled out a large roll of parchment, and headed over to the fireplace.

"What are you doing with that?" Draco asked her, interested.

"It's enchanted," Naomi replied with a smile. "My family have taught me how to encrypt runes since I was a little girl. My ancestors in China have always preferred using runic magic to wand magic." She pulled the parchment open carefully, and Draco saw a variation of different runes littered in black and red ink. "This one gives up secrets. When I put it in the fireplace..." she spread it carefully over the ashes in the hearth, "...it should give up the location of wherever the last person was travelling to." She used her wand to tap three times on the parchment.

"I thought you preferred runic magic?" Draco said, trying to hide the shadow of a smirk that crossed his features. Naomi grinned.

"I said my ancestors preferred runes."

"I got the impression you were Muggleborn, actually," Draco continued. The surface layer of the parchment was beginning to burn and glow. Naomi didn't reply, choosing to continue smiling as she waited.

Finally, all of the runes on the parchment appeared red, and Draco noticed that a new line of text had appeared below.

"What does that say?" Draco asked, squinting. He tried to reach impatiently for the parchment, but Naomi swatted at his hand.

"Careful," she seethed, delicately using her fingertips to brush soot away from the text. Draco edged closer, realising that it was written in standard English.

"Borgin and Burkes," he breathed. "Diagon Alley. That's where the Witch went."

oOo

Andromeda blew the candle out beside Teddy's bed and prepared to silently creep out of his room. Her grandson often took a while to get to sleep, but he'd had quite an exhausting day after wearing himself out with chattering when Harry had visited. She stroked his fluffy turquoise head softly, and reached to pull the curtains closed.

Something glimmered just past the garden fence outside, and it caught Andromeda's eye. Her body tensed as she pressed herself to the window, desperately trying to get a better look.

In the dark, she could make out at least two or three figures, cloaked from head to toe and wearing garish animal skull masks on their faces. They looked frightful, and the dim yellow glow from the lanterns they were carrying only made them look more terrifying. She silently thanked Merlin that Teddy hadn't spotted them first, or it would only mean more nightmares.

However, it wasn't Teddy's nightmares that she was most worried about. She had, after Harry's visit, strengthened the protective enchantments around her house. No one who wasn't already invited into her home would even be able to see the house, much less wander into it. She knew that the people wouldn't be able to see anything, but that wasn't what worried her.

They clearly knew that Andromeda's house was meant to be here. Which was why they were standing, stock-still, with their lanterns held high. They were waiting for someone to show themselves and give up the location.

Andromeda knelt down beside Teddy's bedside, and ran her fingers across his forehead as he slept. She didn't know why or what they wanted with Teddy, but she knew it was him that they were here for.

But they would be waiting a long time. Andromeda wasn't going to give up her grandson easily.


End file.
